Seduced by Crimson (2 page)

If it were up to her, Xiao Fei would have waited until they did something illegal—threw a brick at a window, threatened an old lady, hell, even kicked a dog. But she wasn't in charge, and Pei Ling wasn't like her, a refugee from harder lands; he had the impatience of an American-born Chinese. He waited only long enough for the fangs to make it past the first two shooters; then he hit the signal: an air horn loud enough to startle anyone who wasn't expecting it. Hell, Xiao Fei was expecting it, and still she jerked.

The vamps flew straight up into the air, just as predicted. Then the shooting began. The others in Xiao Fei's team had basic guns: single barrel, normal bullets. The plan was to make vampire Swiss cheese of the henchmen, knock them out of the sky and finish them off. Donny and Stan were Xiao Fei's responsibility.

AH vamps were strong, but some were less so than others. Especially the newly turned. Donny went down first, real easy, her dart in his midsection. Xiao Fei executed a practiced wrist flip, and another dart dropped into her gun. Then she sighted… Where the hell was the leader? Where was Stan?

There
. He'd already been shot a few times. It didn't seem to be slowing him down, but the bullets had knocked him against a building, and he'd tumbled afoul of a string of New Year's lanterns.

Gung Ho Fat Choy. Happy New Year, vamp
, she thought with a smile.
You get to be cured
. She pulled the trigger and a dart blossomed from his neck.
Rip-swish
. Sight and squeeze. Another dart appeared just below his collarbone.
Flip-swish
one more time, and he was down, snoozing on the pavement, right next to Donny and bits of vamp cheese that would never bite anything again.

Xiao Fei put her sights back on Donny. She was pretty sure Stan would stay down; three darts would take care of Dracula himself. As for the other vamps… She would just have to trust Pei Ling's crew had done their jobs. Meanwhile, she prayed that Stan's legion of girlfriends were busy doing their nails and not about to drop down as reinforcements.

She bit her lip, abruptly lifting her gun to scan the skies. She loved Pei Ling like a brother, and he could make a damn fine ha gow, but this was her life on the line. Forget watching the sleeping Donny; she was going to look for vamp reinforcements.

The air horn blared again. All clear. Apparently no other fangs were coming. She scanned the skies one more time, weapon at the ready. Her peripheral vision showed all four of her companions moving with no ill effects. Nothing new dropped out of the sky. Nothing erupted from side streets. Everything really was all clear.

She waited another ten seconds, watching without moving as the others grabbed Donny and Stan and dragged them into the acupuncture shop. Pei Ling remained in the street to set fire to the bullet-riddled vamp bodies, and to bellow up at her.

"Xiao Fei, hurry up!"

She winced. Did he have to shout her name like that? Did he really think that they were safe just because they'd caught these two vamps? But that was an ABC for you: never enough paranoia to survive in a war zone. Well, her position was given away now. With one last look around, she straightened into a half crouch and skittered down the fire escape. Now came the real work.

"Wow. Awesome playground."

Patrick ignored Hank's reverent tone as he powered up his mother's massive computer. His druid friend stroked the flat screen while behind him Hank's girlfriend Slick fingered a silk jacket his mother had bought in Vietnam for seven dollars.

"Where'd she get all this stuff?" Slick asked.

Patrick didn't answer. He'd long since gotten used to the layers of scrolls, dusty fans, and various Asian paraphernalia that perpetually surrounded his white mother. Still, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and stroking a carved sandalwood fan that scented the air next to the monitor. Then his eyes drifted to a photo from his tenth Christmas. Even at twelve, his sister been a beauty, and his brother had the geek glasses and pocket protector of the genius accountant he would eventually become. But what Patrick noticed most was his mother's bright Asian scarf knotted about her neck. It had a batik design in brilliant red, the perfect accent to her dark green gown. And yet, despite all that, it was her face that glowed. She was no beauty by even a fond son's standard, but she had a vibrancy inside her that outshone even that brilliant red scarf.

His gaze drifted to his father, Mr. Stern Hard-Ass, as he'd used to call him. Except in this photo, Mr. Hard-Ass wasn't disciplining his children. He wasn't even looking all professorish and serious. He was gazing at his wife with such devotion that Patrick was stunned he hadn't ever noticed before. His father had loved his mother. Passionately, devotedly, and…

And it was over now because they were both dead.

The computer trilled—new e-mail for his mom—and Patrick forced himself to focus. Behind him, Slick and Hank had begun to bicker.

"Don't touch that," Slick ordered. "It's like a violation or something. I mean, they're—"

"I know what they are," Hank snapped. "I… I know. I saw."

"So don't touch—"

"Find the monk's book," interrupted Patrick. "Handwritten in Chinese characters. It'll have Mom's translation on blue paper folded inside. I think it's over there."

He gestured randomly, pleased that his voice didn't shake. There was precious little time before the authorities showed up. Once the bodies were found, then everything would be frozen for the investigation. He had to be long gone by then. Hopefully, he'd have found the Phoenix Tear and closed the demon gate before anyone brought him in for questioning. Before he had to deal with…

He pushed his grief away. As Draig-Uisge, pain had no place in his heart.

"Damn, they're all written in Chinese," grumbled Hank. "How the hell are we supposed to—"

"Let him be," Slick hissed. "Just look for the blue papers—"

"But—"

Patrick bit out an order before the bickering sent him postal. "Hank, I need the file on Phoenix Tears. From that cabinet." He pointed, and Hank immediately hauled open a drawer.

"There's nothing—"

"It's in Celtic, Hank."

His friend growled again. "Jesus. Isn't there anything you need in English?"

Patrick didn't answer. He was too busy typing. Thankfully, he knew his mother's passwords. Her research was too important not to be coded, but her son was the Draig-Uisge and her nearest research partner. He knew her security protocols better than anyone.

"Got nothing in English or Celtic," Hank called.

"Try 'tears.' Phoenix Tears. They're a Cambodian cult," Patrick responded. "Bunch of girls with tattoos."

"Cult?" Slick gasped. "Like a sex cult?"

Patrick shook his head as he scanned his mother's e-mail for anything she hadn't been able to tell him yet. Ever. Because she'd never—Once again, he cut off his thoughts. "They're not sex girls, they're bleeders. Hemophiliacs."

"Got it!" Hank's voice merged with the sound of the file drawer rolling further open. "There's a butt-load of… Holy mother, these are adoption papers! Xiao Fei Finney. This girl escapes war-torn Cambodia, gets adopted by an LA. family, and gets saddled with Finney as a last name? Sometimes life just sucks." He paused. "So, do we want her or the sister? They're both here."

Patrick frowned as he looked up. "Who's got the tat?"

"Xiao Fei."

"She's the one."

"Right."

Slick interrupted from Patrick's side. "This the journal?" She waved a dark slim volume in front of his eyes.

"Yeah." Patrick grabbed it and dropped it into his coat pocket—the same pocket where he kept his ceremonial knives. The same pocket where he should have had a gun, but he'd been too much of a traditionalist to learn modern weaponry. God, what an idiot he was. If only he carried a gun. If only he'd arrived a little earlier. If only Slick and Hank had been there on time. But they hadn't, and now demons had killed… everyone.

Hank slammed the file drawer shut. "We taking all this to Pete?" He didn't seem pleased with the thought, but that was the protocol. Demons had just massacred the entire San Bernadino druid circle, save the Draig-Uisge. Peter the Pompous Prick was the leader of Hank's circle, the largest
California
druid group, the one in LA. He ought to be notified. And yet, the thought of putting that man in charge of a war against demons turned Patrick's stomach.

Slick set a hand on his shoulder, her small fingers warm and intensely irritating. Patrick shrugged her off, but he couldn't stop her question. "Are you sure it was
demons
?"

"Yes." He bit the word off. They'd known there was movement between the demon world and Earth. His father had felt it. Patrick, with the amulet burning a hole against his chest, had felt it from the very beginning. That's why they'd chosen to meet tonight. That's why they'd asked Hank to come up from LA. They were going to discuss plans for how to combat…

"That's why they hit us tonight," he murmured, slowly realizing what he should have figured out right away. "The demons. They knew we could fight them. We had the knowledge and the…"

"The amulet," murmured Hank.

Slick nodded. "They knew. And they took you out."

"But how?" Hank said as he leaned against the dark metal cabinet.

"We knew because we were researching it!" Patrick snapped. "Because Mom…" He swallowed his words and set the file to print. His mother was a disastrous housekeeper, but her computer files were meticulous. He'd found all the electronic notes on Miss Xiao Fei Finney, one-time Phoenix Tear, and he knew what he had to do.

"Not how did you know about the demons," Hank growled. "I get the whole feeling-the-energy thing."

"Hank's been practicing too," Slick piped up with clear pride.

Hank acknowledged her with a warm glance, but his words were for Patrick. "I don't understand how the demons knew about us. How did they know where to hit us and how?"

"They feel the amulet…" Patrick began, but then his words faded away. "But they didn't attack me. They didn't even notice me."

"Yeah," Slick chimed in. "They went for the druid circle. Not ours in L.A., but yours out here. How did they know?"

The printer was still spitting out pages, so Patrick spent a moment to clear his thoughts. He had to focus. This was a chance to get information here without police interference. The last chance.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, fighting the waves of grief that threatened to drown him. He was the Draig-Uisge. He had a mission: Close the demon gate before all of Earth was overrun. Everything else would have to wait.

And yet, the scent of sandalwood, the whisper of silk, the intelligence that was his mother and the knowledge held by his father… He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. They were dead.

"Patrick. Buddy. Dude, don't fade on us now."

"Leave him alone. He's just lost—"

"Jesus, Slick, I know what he's just lost, but the whole freaking planet is at stake. We got demons on Earth!"

"I'm here," Patrick interrupted, startled by how steady his voice sounded. As if his heart hadn't just died with his parents. As if everything he'd ever known hadn't just been ripped out from under him. "I'm the Draig-Uisge," he finally said. "I will end this."

"Yeah," said his friend with obvious doubt. "But how? I mean, I'm here to help and all—"

"
We're
here," Slick corrected.

Hank nodded. "But what's the plan?"

Patrick shrugged as he bent to retrieve the print-out. He grabbed Xiao Fei's adoption papers with his other hand. He already had the druid book of spells; his father had passed it on to him when he'd become their enforcer. Their Draig-Uisge. His father had…

"Pat—"

"You go tell everything to Pete. Let him figure out the whys and wherefores. He's good at that." And Pete was. A born researcher intent on multiplying his little academic kingdom, Mr. Pompous Prick would be great at understanding what happened—afterwards. But in the present…

"You're going to find this Finney girl, aren't you?" Slick's voice was nervous. "Do you think she's in danger from the demons?"

Patrick didn't answer. The more important question was whether she was in any danger from him, the Draig-Uisge. He moved toward the office door. He had to get to L.A., but Slick grabbed his arm, holding him back with surprising strength. When he turned to glare at her, she glared right back.

"Why do you need this girl?" she pressed.

How to explain? "I shape energy. I can use it to seal the demon gate."

She brightened. "Awesome. But why do you need—"

"But I need power. I can shape the power, but I can't create it."

Hank stepped up and gently tugged his girlfriend's hand away. "The girl Xiao Fei has the power," he explained.

Slick glanced at the adoption photo. Patrick didn't need to look down to know what she saw: a hollow-eyed Cambodian waif. Even on this printed copy of a copy, Xiao Fei looked lost and dirty and empty of everything except a painful confusion.

"She's just a kid!" Slick exclaimed.